“Tra la-la la-laaa!”
I skipped along today, impish and fey and bored with today’s run. We were on yet another rescue-and-destroy run. The day before, I’d been quite pleased to find that my skills as a walking detonation device were of use to the company. The Brown had stood, confused, in front of a building that needed demolishing, unsure of how to do so cleanly. I had watched him rub his chin, brown hair falling everywhere as he tiled his head back and forth, for several minutes before walking up and offering my services. Five minutes later, I had emerged from the middle of the pile of ruin giggling, much to the dismay of my commander. He had, at the time, ordered me to “NEVER DO THAT AGAIN, DAMMIT!”, and so I was pleasantly surprised and gleeful when he asked me to do the same thing today at their next destination.
We were, at the time, partway through a valley that rather magnificently amplified any sound, and so as I could not sing my nonsense song out loud, I did so in the heads of anyone who would listen. I soon had many either amused, or exasperated with me. If I had really hit an interesting spot in their minds, they were both. The Brown was behind me, as was Shadowsong. The prior was amongst the ranks of exasperated, the latter tried to hide his entertainment and maintain his tough-guy exterior. The Medic, walking next to me today, was as always elegant and sleek, maintaining his aloof, blasé expression behind his glasses. If you looked, though-and I did-you could see the corners of his mouth twitch, indicating not only that he heard me, but that he was amused…and, quite likely, intent on joining the game.
“Tra la-la…la-LAAAAA!”
I crescendoed into a trilling peak at the end of my little song, giggling at the echoes of “Oh good gods…” and the returning giggles I caught, as we turned a corner. The Brown, apparently, had had quite enough, because I heard in mental reply a quite clear “You DO realize that you should not be making THIS kind of noise in THIS canyon?!”
I turned to look back at him, impishly grinning, scanning the faces of my fellows to see their reactions. As most of them were either as amused as the Medic and Shadowsong and I, or pretending not to be, I replied, “But of course. But, wouldn’t that require me to be audible to those rocks? They cannot hear what I say now. Or, indeed, what you just spoke to me. I think we’re quite safe.”
I was rewarded with an exasperated grumble, an eye roll, and a “move along” gesture. So, I turned around-although partially at the Medic’s pulling my arm-and moved on. I soon realized, however, why he’d taken my arm. He rightfully expected me to start skipping again. At my confused glance, he nodded ahead, to where a shadowy blob was barely visible in the distance. I changed my skip to my silent padding-my “assassin walk”, my children call it-and pulled one of my two knives, as did many of the others behind me.
We approached the object, still several miles away, at half the speed we had been going. It looked odder, and odder, the more we approached, and many of us could smell the death surrounding it. Unsettled, we became progressively more restless, more set on our guard, thus more armed…
…Until we got within sight. The tree had been stuffed full of dead men, impaled and thus pinned to the trees. It was recently done, too, because the smell was not of rotten flesh, but of blood. Some of them were still dripping it. These were our opponents too…it looked like some of their captives got the better of them. My mouth fell open in utter disbelief, as did many of the mouths of those behind me.
The Medic was the first to come out of shock. I looked at him, incredulous, as he cocked his head, rubbed at his chin, and considered the tree. He opened his mouth and took a breath twice, as if to say something, but shut his mouth, shaking his head with an “mmm”. He looked down at me out of the corner of his eye, and at my exasperated look and my mental “WHY DO YOU NOT JUST SAY WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS”, smirked at me, winked, and turned around. And in his deep, drawling, voice, he quite clearly stated, “Oh look everyone! It’s an Idiot Tree! Everyone, pick an Idiot!”
I looked up at him, and grinned. He grinned back, with the same impish light to his eyes, and a fraction of a nod and an arch of an eyebrow were seen. So I shrugged, and flounced over to the tree. I picked the closest and most interestingly impaled man, with the most interesting implement, and yanked it out. Ducking drops of blood, I whipped out my knife, and proceeded to stab what would have been the living daylights out of him to the sounds of the Medic's and Shadowsong’s roaring laughter in the back of my head.
The repressed giggles were audible…and the Brown soon had his hands full trying to shush them, not wanting either a rock slide or attention drawn. His efforts were for naught, as we soon felt the approach of many heavy feet approaching us. They disliked us enough to begin with, and we were found near a tree full of freshly killed and impaled men…I was sure it would be a lively fight. I grinned at his dirty look, pulled my knives, and fell into formation to sprint to meet them with the rest of the fighters.
“Fighting with Chaote! Fighting away from us! No fighting! I’ll send you home! DON’T EVER DO IT AGAIN!”
The Brown was, it seems, displeased. I was rewarded for my efforts, and his hissy fit, with the lovely ease of fighting an easy fight to the sounds of my fellows wheezing, of laughter, in my head.
Showing posts with label topic: humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label topic: humor. Show all posts
Monday, March 21, 2011
{Writing} Rori's Tale: Chapter Two.
“LOVE!”
I swept into the Brown‘s door, cloak and still-damp gown flowing, flushed and heated from my stalking walk home. My eyes were flashing, and I was still struggling to wrap my head around what had just happened during my bath, and if anyone knew who that had been, it would be the Brown. He handled most of the entries into the Inn; he must know who the dragon was!
“Mmm?” He leaned back in the chair he was working in to peer at me inquiringly from around the doorway. I could smell the ink he was using-he must have been working-and I felt a bit guilty for interrupting him. I gave him a sheepish grin, and was about to apologize, but the smug, impish smirk on his face removed any incentive I had for that…and now I wore a look of suspicion, in place of the guilt. Two smug males, both wearing the same exact smirk, in one day? I couldn’t help wondering if he already knew what I was about to present him with…but I couldn’t smell the dragon anywhere nearby, so I could not think how he would.
I shook my head. No matter. I spun off my cloak, hung it on one of the hooks near the door and whipped around, ignoring the pointed smirk he gave me when my speed dislodged my dress a bit too much. I put my hands on my hips, eyes flashing, hair mussed, daring him to comment on the gown when I had more important matters at hand. “Do you have any idea if there are any purple shape-shifting dragons in the Inn?”
His wings twitched as if to repress giggles as he placed his quill on his desk, capped his inkwell, and stood. “Mmm…I do not know. Purple dragons…it strikes no bell. Did you get a clear look?” He strolled slowly across the room, looking like the thoughtful expression on his face was hiding too much amusement…as well as further attempts to stare through the sheer bathing gown I still wore.
And I? I was exasperated, staring at him, mouth agape, at his question. He asked that, knowing the extent of my scrutiny? “Did I…what? Alright, completely leaving out the fact that I am one of the most detail-oriented people we both know, he walked in on me while I was in my pool while I was sleeping. That does not happen! Yes, I got a clear look!” Still exasperated, I paced around the room, gown swirling, furrowing my eyebrows in concentration, barely noticing the surprised look, meaning that I’d caught the Brown off guard with my statement.
I was quieter in tone, thoughtful, now. “He…shifted between a humanoid form and a dragon form. His dragon form was huge, bigger than almost any other dragon I’ve seen…except maybe Amberflame, depending on the proportion compared. Sleek…I saw only his tail, and his head…it was the color of midnight blue, except replace blue with purple. Midnight purple, I suppose. And he was shaped, what I could see of him, almost like a Western dragon, but not quite. Almost like he belonged on the Celtic Isles. His human form…he was maybe five six, fair-skinned, as pale as you but with cool undertones, with shiny black hair. Fit and slight, but very solid…not elvan-lithe, like you or Shadowsong, or feline-lithe, like me…but also obviously not human. The same eyes…dark, black, but black like night, in both forms. Far more perceptive and knowing than any other eyes I’ve seen…except yours. He never told me his name.”
I looked up at him, now standing quite still within arm’s reach of me, watching me, eyes smiling, languid, and feline, keenly boring into me. He walked closer to me and smiled, turning me to face him, and he stroked my hair out of my face. I closed my eyes and purred under his hand, but gave him a confused look when I opened my eyes. “You don’t know him? It was on Inn grounds…how could he live here and not have you know of him?”
His hands were wreaking havoc with my concentration, and he knew it. He chuckled as I leaned my forehead against him, who was stroking under the wings that he knew were there, but could not see. “Mmm…I may know him. I may not. You say he gave you no name?”
I shook my head against his chest, accidentally nuzzling him in the process. My voice was mumbled. “Mmm…no, he didn’t…you know, I really cannot think coherently when you’re doing that…”
He chuckled again. “That is the point. Now, about this dragon of yours…what did he do to you? You say he walked into your bath?”
I slipped my hands under his wings in retaliation, smugly satisfied as he turned to putty. “Revenge is a bitch. Yes, he did. And he’s not “my” dragon. I was sleeping, he woke me up, roared at me, and then did strange things with my brain.” I found myself wishing that we could continue this conversation in a large squishy dish chair.
He seemed to read my mind. He scooped me up and toted me off, simultaneously busy with laughing, head thrown back. “He did strange things with your brain? Well, that narrows it down.” He turned a corner, and walked into the doorway of his bedroom. His nest, set on the right wall between desk and dresser, lavishly designed and made, was full already. The Shadowsong blinked up at us drowsily as the Brown’s laughter interrupted his sleep, and I was unceremoniously dumped into the Irishman’s lap. He jumped, and squeaked in surprise, giving out a sleep-slurred, “Wha’ in the nine hells?”
The Brown doubled over, laughing anew, as I tried to get my disheveled hair straightened, made none too easy given that it had gotten stuck on the Shadowsong’s ever-present leathers, and given that my bath gown had freshly rearranged itself into improper fashions. “Oh, a dragon interrupted her bath.” At that, he turned to leave, allowing his brother to wrap his arms around me to prevent my pursuit.
The Shadowsong’s eyebrows reached his hairline in amused disbelief. “Oh really? Who was it to be bein’?” His mischievous grin given up at his brother had me suspicious-it was the same smug grin I’d seen on the Brown and the dragon!-and the Brown’s face quickly echoed his brother’s. He turned around in the doorway to smirk, eyes bright, at the both of us.
“Rori.”
My face must have been priceless, as I lay, now shocked into silence. I could not manage to do more than sputter. He took a flourishing bow, and backed out of the door with a twirl. I heard the front door close, meaning he’d left me and the Shadowsong be. The Shadowsong, shaking with silent laughter, pulled my frozen form back to rest against him, stroking my hair. I turned to gape at him. “He couldn’t have said that to begin with?! He knew! You knew! I know you both knew! Why did something so easy have to be so difficult! AUGH!”
The Shadowsong was now laughing as hard as his brother had been. He pulled my face to him and kissed me on the forehead, and then pulled me back against him, rubbing the base of my neck to relax me. “Because it to be bein’ me brother. He not to be bein’ the Brown if he to be bein’ any other way.” I could’ve sworn I heard a faded comment about the conversation being much less amusing in the back of my head, but I couldn’t pin it. My face twisted into this indescribable look of incredulity and disbelief.
But, my best friend’s hand and purring at my neck were soon enough to set me purring myself. I still couldn’t drop the infuriating aggravation had made, though. A dragon is quite a good deal larger than an elephant, and I really didn’t appreciate the attempts to ignore either one. Today was supposed to have been peaceful. I mused again over my failed bath, the rest and sleep of which was being replaced by the Shadowsong’s soft singing. “Rori…” So that was his name. Maybe his offer was worth considering after all…
I swept into the Brown‘s door, cloak and still-damp gown flowing, flushed and heated from my stalking walk home. My eyes were flashing, and I was still struggling to wrap my head around what had just happened during my bath, and if anyone knew who that had been, it would be the Brown. He handled most of the entries into the Inn; he must know who the dragon was!
“Mmm?” He leaned back in the chair he was working in to peer at me inquiringly from around the doorway. I could smell the ink he was using-he must have been working-and I felt a bit guilty for interrupting him. I gave him a sheepish grin, and was about to apologize, but the smug, impish smirk on his face removed any incentive I had for that…and now I wore a look of suspicion, in place of the guilt. Two smug males, both wearing the same exact smirk, in one day? I couldn’t help wondering if he already knew what I was about to present him with…but I couldn’t smell the dragon anywhere nearby, so I could not think how he would.
I shook my head. No matter. I spun off my cloak, hung it on one of the hooks near the door and whipped around, ignoring the pointed smirk he gave me when my speed dislodged my dress a bit too much. I put my hands on my hips, eyes flashing, hair mussed, daring him to comment on the gown when I had more important matters at hand. “Do you have any idea if there are any purple shape-shifting dragons in the Inn?”
His wings twitched as if to repress giggles as he placed his quill on his desk, capped his inkwell, and stood. “Mmm…I do not know. Purple dragons…it strikes no bell. Did you get a clear look?” He strolled slowly across the room, looking like the thoughtful expression on his face was hiding too much amusement…as well as further attempts to stare through the sheer bathing gown I still wore.
And I? I was exasperated, staring at him, mouth agape, at his question. He asked that, knowing the extent of my scrutiny? “Did I…what? Alright, completely leaving out the fact that I am one of the most detail-oriented people we both know, he walked in on me while I was in my pool while I was sleeping. That does not happen! Yes, I got a clear look!” Still exasperated, I paced around the room, gown swirling, furrowing my eyebrows in concentration, barely noticing the surprised look, meaning that I’d caught the Brown off guard with my statement.
I was quieter in tone, thoughtful, now. “He…shifted between a humanoid form and a dragon form. His dragon form was huge, bigger than almost any other dragon I’ve seen…except maybe Amberflame, depending on the proportion compared. Sleek…I saw only his tail, and his head…it was the color of midnight blue, except replace blue with purple. Midnight purple, I suppose. And he was shaped, what I could see of him, almost like a Western dragon, but not quite. Almost like he belonged on the Celtic Isles. His human form…he was maybe five six, fair-skinned, as pale as you but with cool undertones, with shiny black hair. Fit and slight, but very solid…not elvan-lithe, like you or Shadowsong, or feline-lithe, like me…but also obviously not human. The same eyes…dark, black, but black like night, in both forms. Far more perceptive and knowing than any other eyes I’ve seen…except yours. He never told me his name.”
I looked up at him, now standing quite still within arm’s reach of me, watching me, eyes smiling, languid, and feline, keenly boring into me. He walked closer to me and smiled, turning me to face him, and he stroked my hair out of my face. I closed my eyes and purred under his hand, but gave him a confused look when I opened my eyes. “You don’t know him? It was on Inn grounds…how could he live here and not have you know of him?”
His hands were wreaking havoc with my concentration, and he knew it. He chuckled as I leaned my forehead against him, who was stroking under the wings that he knew were there, but could not see. “Mmm…I may know him. I may not. You say he gave you no name?”
I shook my head against his chest, accidentally nuzzling him in the process. My voice was mumbled. “Mmm…no, he didn’t…you know, I really cannot think coherently when you’re doing that…”
He chuckled again. “That is the point. Now, about this dragon of yours…what did he do to you? You say he walked into your bath?”
I slipped my hands under his wings in retaliation, smugly satisfied as he turned to putty. “Revenge is a bitch. Yes, he did. And he’s not “my” dragon. I was sleeping, he woke me up, roared at me, and then did strange things with my brain.” I found myself wishing that we could continue this conversation in a large squishy dish chair.
He seemed to read my mind. He scooped me up and toted me off, simultaneously busy with laughing, head thrown back. “He did strange things with your brain? Well, that narrows it down.” He turned a corner, and walked into the doorway of his bedroom. His nest, set on the right wall between desk and dresser, lavishly designed and made, was full already. The Shadowsong blinked up at us drowsily as the Brown’s laughter interrupted his sleep, and I was unceremoniously dumped into the Irishman’s lap. He jumped, and squeaked in surprise, giving out a sleep-slurred, “Wha’ in the nine hells?”
The Brown doubled over, laughing anew, as I tried to get my disheveled hair straightened, made none too easy given that it had gotten stuck on the Shadowsong’s ever-present leathers, and given that my bath gown had freshly rearranged itself into improper fashions. “Oh, a dragon interrupted her bath.” At that, he turned to leave, allowing his brother to wrap his arms around me to prevent my pursuit.
The Shadowsong’s eyebrows reached his hairline in amused disbelief. “Oh really? Who was it to be bein’?” His mischievous grin given up at his brother had me suspicious-it was the same smug grin I’d seen on the Brown and the dragon!-and the Brown’s face quickly echoed his brother’s. He turned around in the doorway to smirk, eyes bright, at the both of us.
“Rori.”
My face must have been priceless, as I lay, now shocked into silence. I could not manage to do more than sputter. He took a flourishing bow, and backed out of the door with a twirl. I heard the front door close, meaning he’d left me and the Shadowsong be. The Shadowsong, shaking with silent laughter, pulled my frozen form back to rest against him, stroking my hair. I turned to gape at him. “He couldn’t have said that to begin with?! He knew! You knew! I know you both knew! Why did something so easy have to be so difficult! AUGH!”
The Shadowsong was now laughing as hard as his brother had been. He pulled my face to him and kissed me on the forehead, and then pulled me back against him, rubbing the base of my neck to relax me. “Because it to be bein’ me brother. He not to be bein’ the Brown if he to be bein’ any other way.” I could’ve sworn I heard a faded comment about the conversation being much less amusing in the back of my head, but I couldn’t pin it. My face twisted into this indescribable look of incredulity and disbelief.
But, my best friend’s hand and purring at my neck were soon enough to set me purring myself. I still couldn’t drop the infuriating aggravation had made, though. A dragon is quite a good deal larger than an elephant, and I really didn’t appreciate the attempts to ignore either one. Today was supposed to have been peaceful. I mused again over my failed bath, the rest and sleep of which was being replaced by the Shadowsong’s soft singing. “Rori…” So that was his name. Maybe his offer was worth considering after all…
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